


Someone will love you

by WigglingPudding



Category: DC Animated Universe, DCU
Genre: Almost Everyone - Freeform, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Martha is awesome, Romance, SuperBat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-17 00:12:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11263944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WigglingPudding/pseuds/WigglingPudding
Summary: (Based on Halsey's Someone will love you)Clark never liked his method on how he extract information. No flirting, no seducing, no sexual intercourse, no torturing, no everything.Averting his eyes from the reporter, Bruce switched the device off and pulled his attention back to the blonde.When the Sun came and Bruce was safely in his mansion again, he switched the phone back on. There were 23 missed calls and 35 messages. All from the same person.Bruce never called back or read those messages.





	Someone will love you

**Author's Note:**

> This story is self-beta'ed. I apologize for any mistakes

**“Someone will love you, but someone isn’t me”**

**-Halsey**

* * *

 

_‘I've missed your calls for months it seems Don't realise how mean I can be’_

Johann Sebastian Bach’s Brandenburg Concerto No.3 in G major was played by the classy orchestra band in the corner of the stage, different kinds of luxurious cologne and perfume filled the air, humans decorating themselves in shiny gold, silver and diamonds, fake laughter and smiles, expensive pastries sitting on the table that no one will touch and people trying so hard to please those with more power. It was a package of everything Bruce hated the most but he showed his face here anyway with all those playboy attitudes and oblivious grin.

“Mr Wayne! A pleasure seeing you here” Victor Peterson, the greediest person Bruce had ever seen, grinned as he shoved people aside to make his way to the billionaire.

“Oh, it has been a while! Mr…?” the Playboy removed the arm he had placed around a model with a name he couldn’t remember (Sally..? or was it Sammy) to accept the extended hand from Peterson.

“Peterson, Mr Wayne. You came to my charity ball last week..?” there was not so hidden disgust in the man’s eyes. The hand in Bruce’s was sticky with sweat he wanted to burn that damn hand and bleach his own.

“Oh yes! Vic! Sorry, maybe I had a little too much before coming here” he raised the half empty glass of champagne (it would take more than a bottle to get him drunk).

“Yes, yes,” Peterson said, half distracted as he tried to find someone in the crowd. “Ah there you are Ian!” he shouted, getting a few heads turned his way. “Ian come here, let me introduce you to our Prince of Gotham, Bruce Wayne”

The fat man dragged a broad and tall man to his side. Bruce’s blue orbs met cold silver and grey orbs. The blonde colour hair looked close to white shining under those lightings. The man was three inches taller than Bruce. If the Playboy didn’t know that this was Ian Gordan Francis (most fearsome criminal in the mafia world) he would have passed him off as a very attractive model.

Ignoring the model he had in his arms before (“Brucie, don’t ignore me!” she whimpered) he took a step forward near the blonde. Obviously running his eyes up and down on the newcomer as he licked his lips. Bruce saw how those orbs lingered on the movement of his tongue before returning back staring at his eyes.

“Why hello, a _pleasure_ meeting you here” he purred out the word ‘pleasure’ and batted his eyelashes on the man. Peterson’s grin widened. They obviously planned this, trying to trick the billionaire into sleeping with this attractive human being and get him to sponsor some activities clearly illegal (without letting Bruce knows what kind of activities, of course).

“Mr Wayne” even his deep smooth sound sent delicious shivers down Brucie’s spines.

“Brucie, call me Brucie”

“Then please call me Ian as well, Brucie”

There was no need for Bruce to attend to this kind of gatherings. Everyone knew that the Playboy Brucie Wayne would be very willing to skip those and meetings too to spend time in pleasure and fun. No one would question his absence. But this was important. The only way he could get close to Ian without raising any suspicions. The information he gathered said this man was most vulnerable when he was distracted (and what better way to distract a man with pleasure and seduction?). Bruce was used to Honeypot missions, he would use any means to get what he wanted. Even if he had to sleep around (it helps him to maintain his Brucie Wayne image).

Peterson excused himself, dragging Bruce’s model away and left the two of them alone. A few more eyelashes batting and words exchanging, Ian was charmed by Brucie Wayne. Not long after, the blonde invited him for a drink in his suite. Bruce would have followed him immediately (finish this the sooner the better) if his phone did not start vibrating in his pocket. He would have ignored it if it did not come from his personal phone.

“Excuse me” he mumbled as he fished the device out.

Clark’s name showed on the screen of the phone. Bruce looked up, only to find a familiar figure in the corner holding the phone next to his ear, staring directly at Bruce through those thick glasses. Those tight muscles were hidden underneath those too big and too out of fashion cheap clothes. Always when he was Clark the reporter there would be a pen and a notebook in another, writing down every detail.

Damn it, he had forgotten that Clark was one of the few invited reporters.

Clark never liked his method on how he extract information. No flirting, no seducing, no sexual intercourse, no torturing, no everything. Sure they were best friends (Bruce would NEVER say that out loud. NEVER) but that did not mean that Clark has the right of controlling how Bruce gets the job done.

Averting his eyes from the reporter, Bruce switched the device off and pulled his attention back to the blonde.

“Was it important?”

“Oh nothing is more important than having a cup of ‘coffee’ in your room” Bruce smiled seductively and tugged the man’s sleeve. “Come on, I’m quite thirsty”

When the Sun came and Bruce was safely in his mansion again, he switched the phone back on. There were 23 missed calls and 35 messages. All from the same person.

Bruce never called back or read those messages.

* * *

 

_‘But I still know your birthday. And your mother’s favourite song’_

This was a stupid idea.

Bruce grumbled like a child as he low key snuggled into that comfortable couch wearing a hand-knitted sweater with green Christmas trees and red nosed reindeer (Martha’s Christmas gift), comfy socks and black jeans that hugged his lower part like a second skin (the Christmas sweater comes in a set).

“Oh stop grumbling. Ma’s making your favourite sour cherry scones for dessert.” Clark emerged from the kitchen with two glasses of strawberry nectar (bless Martha’s soul). He nudged Bruce’s foot aside gently to make a path towards the seat beside Bruce (He could have flew, but he would take every opportunity he could to touch him).

“I thought you don’t like cherry? Why would she make my favourite food when it’s your birthday?” the billionaire reached out for his share of strawberry nectar.

The Kryptonian shrugged.

“Well I don’t mind them, not hate them”

But everyone knew Clark begged his mother to make sour cherry scones because it was the only thing that could make Bruce stay in the farmhouse.

Dinner, as always, was filled with mouth watering food. Martha wouldn’t stop urging her two boys to keep eating even though they had even so much already. Clark ate the largest portion Bruce had ever seen. His stomach was like a black hole, sucking up everything and yet the reporter still looked good and in shape.

Soon, it was dessert and present opening time.

Clark only received three presents. One from his mother, one from Lois who was still working somewhere in Europe and one small rectangle box from Bruce. Martha’s gift was a box filled with homemade chocolate chips cookies (“Now remember to brush your teeth after eating, I don’t want you to have cavities” “Ma, I’m invulnerable”). Lois gave him a folder filled with documents, Bruce and Martha didn’t know what was the content, Clark just X-rayed read them.

At last, it was Bruce’s turn.

“A lead box? Seriously?” Bruce shrugged.

“Don’t want to ruin the surprise”

The reporter rolled his eyes and untied the silver ribbon, removing the lid and raised an eyebrow at the gift.

“A phone?”

“You dropped yours into the Bermuda Triangle, remember?”

“A titanium phone, Bruce”

“I’m rich, Clark”

It was the most expensive gift Clark had ever received (Bruce made sure that it was). Although unnecessary, Clark was obviously very happy with the gifts.

“I have a gift for you as well, Martha”

Both Kents raised their eyebrows as they stared at him curiously.

“Oh you shouldn’t have”

“It’s the least I could do to thank you for the dinner you made”

She received a signed album of George Strait.

After the cakes and presents, Bruce danced along with Martha in the living room, laughing as he sang along to ‘I cross my heart’ that he had remembered by heart.

That was Martha’s favourite song after all.

* * *

 

_‘So I’m sorry to my unknown lover. Sorry that I can’t believe that anybody ever really starts to fall in love with me’_

He had ignored all those red and pink decorations and lots of love and flowers. The chocolates and expensive gifts were returned back to the senders. He didn’t know what day it was or care until Clark showed up in the Batcave’s gym.

Bruce tossed aside the towel after wiping off those sweats clinging around his skin. The black tank top was soaked with sweat as well that it stuck onto his skin uncomfortably. Despite the sweating and sore muscles, he kept going just to have something to do and not look at Clark in the eye when they spoke.

“What do you need, Clark”

Climbing onto the pommel horse, he balanced himself as he did a split midair while keeping himself from falling with a hand.

Bruce watched the way Clark’s cheeks reddened and rubbed the back of his neck shyly.

“Well uh..” Clark only stutters when he was nervous and if he was nervous it was never something good. “… I was going to ask if you would like to have a late dinner with me. Tonight”

The invitation and Clark’s nervousness made it hard for Bruce to focus on his gymnastic, so he pushed himself off and with years of practice, gracefully landed onto the mat.

“Martha’s inviting me to dinner? She could have just called instead of sending you” Grabbing another towel he draped the towel over his head, drying his hair as much as he could.

“Oh no. Ma didn’t… I mean. Just you and me. Dinner”

The vigilante still couldn’t connect the dots.

“Sure. Same old pizza restaurant?” As soon as Bruce agreed, Clark’s eyes seemed to brighten up more.

“Uh no actually. I was thinking about something more romantic. It’s Valentines after all. I made-” The dots started to connect with each other in Bruce’s mind, he barely heard the last few words after ‘Valentines’. Oh, so that’s what the presents and decorations for. “-and got those recipes from Ma. Yup, I’m cooking. It’s your favourite-“

 “Clark”

The imaginary dog ears on Clark perked up.

“Yeah?”

“You’re supposed to ask Lois not me”

The Kryptonian made a confused face.

“Lois? Why would I do that?”

“You’re supposed to spend Valentine with someone you are romantically attracted to. Not friends”

“Well, I am asking you aren’t I? I am romantically attracted to you” Just after Clark finished saying those, his face burned up. Crimson colour painted all over his face, his ears and his neck as well. He had accidentally confessed “W-Well I mean…yeah… I like- no, I love you. So I was-“

No.

Bruce shook his head as he let out a tired sigh. This was not good, not good at all. Clark was not supposed to fall in love with someone like Bruce. Even if silently and secretly Bruce felt the same way as well. But Bruce did not deserve such love. He did not deserve Clark. Who was so charming, so bright, so kind and so... so Clark.

Why would someone like Clark actually love him when all Bruce did was nothing but push people away. Lustful attraction yes, Bruce could handle those but not those sincere love so pure it hurt his heart and mind.

He had stopped listening to the reporter, busying himself by drying his hair as he started to walk away from Clark and towards the shower room.

“No”

“P-Pardon?” Superman stopped listing the menu he had planned for their ‘date’.

“I’m busy.” Bruce didn’t have to turn his head back to know that Clark was following him with a confused look.

“But you just agreed”

“That was before you said it was a date”

“Why would that make any differences? I want you to be my Valentine because I-“ he stopped him before those words come out.

“You’re just confused, Clark”

That was a wrong thing to say. Anger built up within Clark. Not so gently, he grabbed onto Bruce’s wrist and forced him to turn around to face him. His heart broke a little when Bruce refused to look him in the eye.

“I’m not! Stop telling how should I feel!”

“You should stop”

“I will if you reject me properly. Look me in the eye and say no. Then I’ll leave you alone”

Honestly? Bruce just wanted the fingers around his wrist to hold him tighter, pull him closer and shut himself up with a kiss. He wanted to say ‘Yes, I love you too’, kiss that pouting lips, hug each other till daylight and live happily ever after as a couple. Maybe get married and move in to live together. Oh, how many times Bruce had fantasised about that. But he knew reality would soon come and crumble everything. Clark would soon realise that Bruce was a hard person to love. He would realise that he wanted kids of his own and Bruce couldn’t give him a family. He would realise his mistake and leave Bruce heartbroken.

It was better to end it sooner than later. Later would hurt a lot more.

Cold defensive blue orbs met Clark’s own. The expression Bruce had was so neutral for a moment Clark thought Bruce had turned into a robot and switched himself off.

“I do not love you, Clark. I do not love anyone. So move on”

Batman tugged his hand free harshly. Without even giving another look at Clark, he rushed towards the shower room.

“Stop lying to me. Stop lying to yourself, Bruce!”

“I’m not”

And he slammed the door shut behind him.

* * *

 

_‘Sorry I could be so blind, didn’t mean to leave you and all of the things we had behind’_

There was not much time left. With every millisecond he spent trying to come up with another plan, the closer the nuclear missile was getting towards the city. Right now he only had one plan.

“Don’t” he heard J’onn warned from the communication device in his ear.

“There’s not much time” he had already started the javelin and was hovering in the air.

“Superman-“

“He’s busy. And he won’t make it. That much nuclear can cause serious harm to him” and Batman refused to imagine the image of Superman with burnt flesh and white bones. Screaming in pain as he was badly injured but not enough to kill him.

“You’ll die”

“I know” his fingers caressed something inside one of his many pockets. Where he had placed the lead box containing the kryptonite ring.

“Last time you were lucky you were ejected far enough from the blast, Bruce. But this amount is greater than the last”

“I know” feeling the box one last time, he went back gripping the wheel.

“Bruce-“

Thirty seconds till impact

“J’onn. Tell Alfred to make sure Damien does not skip school”

“Batman? J’onn what is he doing?” Superman came in as soon as he was not busy punching those joker robots away from the civilians. “Bruce, give me your location. I’m-“

He switched off the link. Not wanting to hear Superman or the other Justice League questioning about his odd actions. The Kryptonian would stop him if he knew about his suicidal mission.

Batman could see the missile not far from the Javelin and he increased his speed. A grin similar to Joker’s face was painted carelessly on the weapon, mocking him. Carefully closing the distance and switched the repulsing charge on. Soon the missile was connected to the Javelin, right below where Batman was. He pulled the wheel up, moving the vehicle up in the air. It was hard to change the missile’s course without triggering it, but he managed.

Soon the Javelin was charging towards space. Switching it to autopilot, the vigilante punched the eject button and he was out of the vehicle. One more second late there he would have been burnt from the atmosphere.

There was a blast, then a very bright light too bright for human eyes and everything was black.

-

Everything hurt and his body was burning. He recognised some of his wounds. Mild concussion, second and first degree burns here and there, three broken ribs, a few cracked bones and incisions. He was treated and was heavily sedated though.

When he opened his eyes, he recognised the ceiling of the medical room in the JL headquarter.

So he was alive.

 He was relieved and disappointed at the same time. Relieved that he had not orphaned Damien when he was barely a teenager, disappointed to be alive because that means he would have to listen to the lectures of ‘do not sacrifice yourself again’ from Clark, Alfred and definitely Dick.

“Bruce…?” there was a familiar figure moving closer at the corner of his eyes. His vision was still too blurry but he knew very well who that was.

“Clark” he gasped out as much as he could with his sore throat.

Clark broke down right then. Sobbing and clinging onto Bruce’s hand. Pressing those soft lips against the back of his hand. Whispering words between those sobs.

“Never leave me again. Oh Bruce, during the surgery your heart stopped twice. Twice!”

Bruce did not like seeing Clark in his Superman suit looked so vulnerable. Superman was supposed to be the opposite, strong and invulnerable. This was just an image of a broken man.

“I love you. I love you so much… Oh God, Bruce. I love you”

Bruce slowly went back to sleep again while listening to Clark whispering how much he loved him.

When he woke up alone in the medical room, Bruce dragged himself back to his mansion despite J’onn and Diana’s protest. He ignored the calls and messages from them while he was recovering in his Batcave for a week (Alfred’s stern look made him stay in bed for a week).

* * *

 

_‘I run away when things are good and never really understood. The way you laid your eyes on me in ways that no one ever could’_

It was another night he had spent with the Kent family. Martha had insisted that he should drag all the boys and Alfred as well to the farmhouse for a family dinner.

_Family dinner_ , Bruce smiled inwardly at the thought.

It was obvious the boys enjoyed themselves, even if Jason and Damien kept sulking. Dinner was a disaster and Food War II would have begun if not for the disapproving looks Alfred and Martha had given the boys. The combined force of the two was unstoppable. Even Bruce felt like he was a boy again and did something wrong under their gaze.

Bruce sat on the porch of the farmhouse. Taking small sips from the hot cocoa Martha had made for him before shooing him out before he could offer his help to clean up after dinner.

The corner of his lips curved upwards at the sound of his boys arguing who would be doing the dishes and who would wipe the table.

“Damien likes sour cherry scones as much as you, it seems” Clark grinned, approaching Bruce with his own mug and made himself comfortable on the steps of the porch, beside Bruce. Their sides almost touching.

“He has great taste in food, then” and the reporter laughed. It was the sweetest laugh Bruce ever heard in his life. He liked the sound and he wanted to listen to it again, to be the one that makes him laugh, but he knew very well he would cause more tears than laughter.

“Thank you,” the billionaire said as he stared into a distance. “For inviting the boys. They love Martha”

He was expecting more laughter, teases or a friendly bump on the shoulder, but not silence.

When the silence was dragged long enough, Bruce took the risk and turned his head to look at Clark.

Those beautiful blue eyes that seemed to shine under the moonlight were staring at him as if he was the greatest treasure not just on Earth but the Universe. Like nothing else matter. They were filled with so much love, so much faith and so much hope for a person to have. Too much. Never once had he saw anyone else look at him that way.

“Bruce...” Clark leant closer, his free hand reaching out to cup one of Bruce’s cheek. The touch was warm, so gentle and so loving it burned Bruce.

“I’m going to check on the boys”

Even after years of practice, his movements were not as graceful as useful. Standing and hurrying back into the house like a rusted robot.

He avoided being alone with Clark after that.

* * *

 

_‘And so it seems I broke your heart, my ignorance has struck again. I failed to see it from the start and tore you open ‘til the end’_

Clark stopped trying to contact Bruce after that. Not even a call or a text for a month. The billionaire should be glad that Clark gave up and finally realise Bruce was not meant for him. That Clark deserves so much more and someone better than Bruce. He should be glad, but he couldn’t help but worry.

He did not try to make the first move to check up on Clark though. It was better this way, he had told himself. The less contact between them, the quicker Clark’s love towards him will die out. Soon Bruce would be nothing but a bad memory and a mistake Clark almost made.

Surprisingly, it was Lois who called him.

“This is a private number, Ms Lane”

She must have gotten his number from Clark. He felt a pang of jealousy at the closeness between those two. He pushed it down, it was good that they were close, yeah? They deserved each other after what they had gone through together.

“I know, Bruce.” There was anger in her tone “I am so mad at you right now, but I will scream at you later. Now I need you to stop being such a jerk, fly to Metropolis, confess your obvious love to Clark and make out with each other.”

The urge to slam his head on the console was strong. Was his emotion that obvious? He was confident that he was a master in controlling his expression.

“Unless there’s an emergency, Ms Lane, I will not entertain you” he was about to hang up. But Lois’s next words made him feel so much guilt as if he had killed a unicorn and tore its baby out.

“Clark’s depressed, Bruce. He doesn’t eat, or sleep well or even rest. Do you know he almost collapses during work? Him, Mr Invulnerable.”

But it was for the best, Clark would recover soon. He should recover. He must.

Bruce got onto his private helicopter and flew to Metropolis anyway.

The guilt only increased when Clark opened the door after he knocked. Heavy bags under his eyes, hair messier than usual and Bruce was sure he lost a few pound as well. That Kansas Science Fair tee shirt was supposed to be so fit it would hug Clark’s body like second skin. But not it was slightly loose on him.

“Bruce…? What are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry” was all he managed to say before wrapping his arms around Clark’s neck. Those strong arms automatically wrapped around his waist. He fitted in Clark’s arms perfectly, as if he belonged there. But Bruce told himself that it was only his imagination.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, tightening his hold. “I love you too. But I’m afraid”

That night, they cuddled in each other’s arms. Bruce told Clark everything. How he wanted to touch Clark, to feel him, to love him. How he wanted to spend the rest of his life staring at those beautiful eyes bluer than the sky. How he wanted to accept Clark’s love and live happily ever after. But he was afraid. Bruce told him loving him was a mistake and being with him would bring more misery than happiness.

Clark would then assure him that he wanted to touch Bruce, to feel him, to love him. How he wanted to spend the rest of his life with him too and run his fingers through that silky black hair of his. He assured him that there was nothing to be afraid of because loving Bruce was the greatest thing he would ever do, that Bruce was already giving him happiness just by showing up at his doorstep.

They fell asleep in each other’s warmth.

It was the best sleep Bruce had ever had for years.

* * *

 

_‘Someone will love you, but someone isn’t me’_

No matter how many times Clark told Bruce that no one else will love him as much as Bruce does, Bruce couldn’t believe him.

The voice would always be there. Whispering words at how Clark would leave him, how Bruce’s love was not enough, that Bruce did not deserve Clark.

But for now, he ignored that voice. For now, he would love Clark with every fibre in him. He would give him as much happiness as he could.

And when Clark found someone who he loved more than Bruce, Bruce would gladly let him go and chase that brighter future.

But for now, he will love him.

Always will be.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this, as mentioned, based on Halsey's song - Someone will love you. I really like every lyric of her songs. It reminds me so much of Bruce.   
> And yes, I am shameless and like angsty stories.   
> There will be a part 3 for Betrayer btw. Am working on it   
> DISCLAIMER: LYRIC BELONGS TO THEIR RIGHTFUL OWNER AND I AM ONLY BORROWING THOSE WORDS.   
> My butt hurts from sitting too long as I type


End file.
